He was at the door trying to sell me washing up liquid. Scruffy, young, small. I hated him the moment I looked at the plastic bottles and the green liquid.
A boltban, már nem volt senki. Egyedül pakolgatta a pulton a gyerekek által szétszórt cukorkákat és törölgette a régi márvány lapot. Már vagy három évtizede dolgozott ebben a boltban.
being a salesman is tricky work you have to be able to sweet talk people. selling things makes me feeel guilty, I feel bad asking people for money. Types of things people sell are cookies, peanuts, computers, medical equiptment, gym memberships, jewelry. The best salesmen make a lot of money and make the people who buy what they are selling happy with their purchase. It’s easiest to sell things people want and need.
What is a salesman, what constitutes this vocation. Is it the man who goes door to door selling you an air conditioner. or perhaps the poor woman selling a home made hammoc in guatemala. It makes sense to me that a salesman is he is controlling in convincing you to buy or not to buy, with this comes a certain mentality and charisma.
I understand infinity more than any physicist. It is endless. House after house with the grass perfectly clipped- perhaps with nail scissors. The forced upward lift of too-pink lips. The tightening of muscles. They shut me out. I hold my wares and smile.
Todo va tan rápido, no te das tiempo de pensar, solo para hacer las cosas que otros te han encomendado, y así olvidas lo que deseabas en el camino que te trajo hasta acá. Las luces, te molestan, los sonidos, te molestan, los pasos, te molestan; e incluso, te has encontrado tratando de borrar sonrisas de los que andan frente a ti; pero que demonios, tienes que hacer lo que tienes que hacer, pues esa es la decisión que tomaste. Dejar que el miedo atrape tus sueños y con ellos tus sentimientos, solo te dejo unos recuerdos que cada día se hacen más borrosos, el idealizado oasis, ya no se presenta ni siquiera como un espejismo. Debes seguir.
Tomas tu maleta, te levantas de la banqueta, espantas las palomas mientras caminas entre ellas, consigues el auto, vuelves a la carretera, dibujas una sonrisa inexistente, tocas la puerta y vendes los estúpidos jabones para conseguir una miserable quincena, para seguir viviendo esta vida que para ti no tiene sentido, para conservar el hermoso paisaje en tu ventana, pues, es lo único que unos días si, otros no, forman pequeñas sonrisas en tu cara y en tu mente.
It was an ordinary day for the Fredrick household until the dreaded salesman came. He lurked down the street with an attache case, looming at a height of at least six feet. His hair was greased to the sides, shining an oily and sinister black. But the worst part was his glasses, which reflected the sunlight, making it seem like his eyes were only two blank glowing discs. Mr.Fredrick peered out the window, and cursed under his breath. Then he turned to his wife and children and yelled “HIT THE FLOOR!” At this command, the entire family pressed themselves against the ground, and not a moment too soon. The doorbell rang, and with no reply there was a knock. Then, the salesman called out to them. “Hello, is this the Fredrick residence?” His tone was eerily collected and slick, unlike the usual eager and peppy salesman. The Fredrick family shivered, waiting for this horrid man to go away. After a minute or so of persistence, the salesman opened the mail slot and dropped a glossy black business card. As he walked away to find his next consumer-victim, Mrs.Fredrick slowly crawled to the business card, reading the name of the salesman. “Damon King.” Quickly Mr.Fredrick grabbed the card from her hands, and tossed the card into the fireplace, where he hurriedly extinguished it to prevent a smoke signal which would give the salesman a reason to come back.
Later that night, the Fredricks made sure to have all blinds and doors locked in precaution. As Mr. and Mrs.Fredrick rested on the couch, the phone rang. As it rung, their son Davey ran up to the phone to answer it. “NO!” shrieked both parents simultaneously, but it was too late. On the other line, the slick tone of Damon King was heard “Hello, I’d like to interest your family in a choice piece of real estate today…” As fast as lightning, Mr.Fredrick leaped from the sofa and pulled the phone cord from the wall. “You have doomed us all.” he said in a ominous tone.
For the next week, not a single phone was to be answered in the Fredrick home, and then the calls became less frequent. “Well, it seems like we’re safe at last.” said Mr.Fredrick, smiling a meek smile. But what they didn’t know was that a door-to-door Mormon missionary was headed up the block to try to spread the message to the Fredricks…
The salesman, tearing into your wallet.
Salesman, knocking at your door, asking for your money.
Sales men need sales to give to men.
Salesman.
Or whatever.
In life sales men come to my door and convince me that my life would be better with the opinion of materialism.greedy hands eventuslly get full and drop what they first reached for as a child
A salesman is a me who sales stuff like for example a salesman sells a necklace and someone buys it that’s a short example but the just sell stuff and some sell stuff to get money for there family some just cause that’s there job. But I think it’s hard cause a lot of people want to buy what you have to sell. A salesman goes early so they could sell before other salesman take the customers.
They are a different sort of person, we each have to think our way through in this world, how to survive. These clever folks almost have to be thinking nonstop, especially thinking of how to convince!
A salesman came up to me while I was shopping in the mall downtown. He asked me if I had a moment to spare to hear about his great new product. i told him I didn’t and quickly walked away. He looked sad. I wondered as I walked away if I should have taken the smallest of moments to speak to him, to let him know that someone cares enough about his existence to listen to him.
The salesman and his dog were the best of friends. Traveling door to door, week after week. Were they happy? The dog was. The salesman pretended to be. But we all must pretend to be happy sometimes, to protect those we love. For the salesman it was his dog, for most, it’s others we love.
“Death of a Salesman”, the play, was super weird. Not a big fan, but I understand it’s symbolism. What would it be like to be a salesman? Boring? Exciting? I would imagine a salesman has many stories to tell. Willy Loman had many. But were they true? One can not really know.
He would be gone before I knew it. There was something a little too charming, a little to perfect about him. I knew better than to think that he would stay. A man like that needs to keep moving. Keep meeting new people. I knew men like him.
Again with the salesman. Again and again and again he came to town. What business did he have here anymore? he had already swindled the various buffoons who loitered about his wares. I detested the man; worse, he disgusted me. His eyebrows were the most deleterious part of him; gargantuan and bushy, they dipped up and down and this way and that way as though an undulating furry snake sat upon his brow.
Mr. Hartley, a former insurance salesman who enjoyed the outdoors and was active with a variety of organizations, died Sunday at home of complications from two recent heart attacks, according to his son.
freep.com
cînd vor veni vremurile în care nu va mai fi nevoie de vînzători?
Day by day I take my chance and make my routine walk down your streets, roads and walkways. I go to your neighborhoods, your areas where you hang out with one idea inside my head. To sell, sell.
the salesman knocks and i sit petrified on my couch
i make a conscious effort to sink lower in my seat
as if he can sense me through the door
i don’t want to deal with him today.
When I think of salesman, I automatically picture a used car salesman. Where I come from, there is this incredibly obnoxious car salesman who puts the most annoying advertisements in history on television. He talks about the cars he has, without script, and ends every single advertisement by saying “it’s gonna be /huuuuuuuuuge./”
The salesman walked down the sidewalk, dragging his briefcase along. Eyes down. Feet dragging. He was tired. Tired of the road, tired of his wife nagging about the road, tired of his boss nagging about his numbers. Would he ever not be tired? Just for one twenty-four hour period…he would love to not be tired. How would that feel–to not feel like your life was one long dead-end road? How would it feel to have energy, to be excited about waking up in the morning? Would his heart explode? Maybe. Or..would he revel in it? Or would he ever, ever want to come back? The salesman turned the corner and never looked back.
Salesman? That’s the word of the day? I can maybe talk about Alfredo from Pushing Daisies? They’re not very relevant anymore. In my opinion.
He was at the door trying to sell me washing up liquid. Scruffy, young, small. I hated him the moment I looked at the plastic bottles and the green liquid.
A boltban, már nem volt senki. Egyedül pakolgatta a pulton a gyerekek által szétszórt cukorkákat és törölgette a régi márvány lapot. Már vagy három évtizede dolgozott ebben a boltban.
being a salesman is tricky work you have to be able to sweet talk people. selling things makes me feeel guilty, I feel bad asking people for money. Types of things people sell are cookies, peanuts, computers, medical equiptment, gym memberships, jewelry. The best salesmen make a lot of money and make the people who buy what they are selling happy with their purchase. It’s easiest to sell things people want and need.
What is a salesman, what constitutes this vocation. Is it the man who goes door to door selling you an air conditioner. or perhaps the poor woman selling a home made hammoc in guatemala. It makes sense to me that a salesman is he is controlling in convincing you to buy or not to buy, with this comes a certain mentality and charisma.
I understand infinity more than any physicist. It is endless. House after house with the grass perfectly clipped- perhaps with nail scissors. The forced upward lift of too-pink lips. The tightening of muscles. They shut me out. I hold my wares and smile.
Knock, knock, knock. Hello? Who?
Would you like to buy? No thanks.
Really? You sure? Yes.
sales stuff. nice. purswasive. wants to sell things, likes lots of money . person. seller . friendly. talkitive.
Todo va tan rápido, no te das tiempo de pensar, solo para hacer las cosas que otros te han encomendado, y así olvidas lo que deseabas en el camino que te trajo hasta acá. Las luces, te molestan, los sonidos, te molestan, los pasos, te molestan; e incluso, te has encontrado tratando de borrar sonrisas de los que andan frente a ti; pero que demonios, tienes que hacer lo que tienes que hacer, pues esa es la decisión que tomaste. Dejar que el miedo atrape tus sueños y con ellos tus sentimientos, solo te dejo unos recuerdos que cada día se hacen más borrosos, el idealizado oasis, ya no se presenta ni siquiera como un espejismo. Debes seguir.
Tomas tu maleta, te levantas de la banqueta, espantas las palomas mientras caminas entre ellas, consigues el auto, vuelves a la carretera, dibujas una sonrisa inexistente, tocas la puerta y vendes los estúpidos jabones para conseguir una miserable quincena, para seguir viviendo esta vida que para ti no tiene sentido, para conservar el hermoso paisaje en tu ventana, pues, es lo único que unos días si, otros no, forman pequeñas sonrisas en tu cara y en tu mente.
It was an ordinary day for the Fredrick household until the dreaded salesman came. He lurked down the street with an attache case, looming at a height of at least six feet. His hair was greased to the sides, shining an oily and sinister black. But the worst part was his glasses, which reflected the sunlight, making it seem like his eyes were only two blank glowing discs. Mr.Fredrick peered out the window, and cursed under his breath. Then he turned to his wife and children and yelled “HIT THE FLOOR!” At this command, the entire family pressed themselves against the ground, and not a moment too soon. The doorbell rang, and with no reply there was a knock. Then, the salesman called out to them. “Hello, is this the Fredrick residence?” His tone was eerily collected and slick, unlike the usual eager and peppy salesman. The Fredrick family shivered, waiting for this horrid man to go away. After a minute or so of persistence, the salesman opened the mail slot and dropped a glossy black business card. As he walked away to find his next consumer-victim, Mrs.Fredrick slowly crawled to the business card, reading the name of the salesman. “Damon King.” Quickly Mr.Fredrick grabbed the card from her hands, and tossed the card into the fireplace, where he hurriedly extinguished it to prevent a smoke signal which would give the salesman a reason to come back.
Later that night, the Fredricks made sure to have all blinds and doors locked in precaution. As Mr. and Mrs.Fredrick rested on the couch, the phone rang. As it rung, their son Davey ran up to the phone to answer it. “NO!” shrieked both parents simultaneously, but it was too late. On the other line, the slick tone of Damon King was heard “Hello, I’d like to interest your family in a choice piece of real estate today…” As fast as lightning, Mr.Fredrick leaped from the sofa and pulled the phone cord from the wall. “You have doomed us all.” he said in a ominous tone.
For the next week, not a single phone was to be answered in the Fredrick home, and then the calls became less frequent. “Well, it seems like we’re safe at last.” said Mr.Fredrick, smiling a meek smile. But what they didn’t know was that a door-to-door Mormon missionary was headed up the block to try to spread the message to the Fredricks…
The salesman, tearing into your wallet.
Salesman, knocking at your door, asking for your money.
Sales men need sales to give to men.
Salesman.
Or whatever.
In life sales men come to my door and convince me that my life would be better with the opinion of materialism.greedy hands eventuslly get full and drop what they first reached for as a child
he tried to sell me love
(i only rent)
can i skip the downpayment
i said
he said okay, all right
(kissed me, and that was that)
tomorrow he’ll wake up
without
his pants or the sheets on his bed
(took his tv too while i was at it)
moral of the story: don’t try to con a girl
who’s always
only
for rent.
One day there was a salesman who sold a kitten to a boy named Alexis who loves cats, then Alexis went home and played with his kitten
A salesman is a me who sales stuff like for example a salesman sells a necklace and someone buys it that’s a short example but the just sell stuff and some sell stuff to get money for there family some just cause that’s there job. But I think it’s hard cause a lot of people want to buy what you have to sell. A salesman goes early so they could sell before other salesman take the customers.
They are a different sort of person, we each have to think our way through in this world, how to survive. These clever folks almost have to be thinking nonstop, especially thinking of how to convince!
A salesman came up to me while I was shopping in the mall downtown. He asked me if I had a moment to spare to hear about his great new product. i told him I didn’t and quickly walked away. He looked sad. I wondered as I walked away if I should have taken the smallest of moments to speak to him, to let him know that someone cares enough about his existence to listen to him.
The salesman and his dog were the best of friends. Traveling door to door, week after week. Were they happy? The dog was. The salesman pretended to be. But we all must pretend to be happy sometimes, to protect those we love. For the salesman it was his dog, for most, it’s others we love.
“Death of a Salesman”, the play, was super weird. Not a big fan, but I understand it’s symbolism. What would it be like to be a salesman? Boring? Exciting? I would imagine a salesman has many stories to tell. Willy Loman had many. But were they true? One can not really know.
The salesman gave me some food for free because I was loyal and did his chores. He even let me borrow some money.
He would be gone before I knew it. There was something a little too charming, a little to perfect about him. I knew better than to think that he would stay. A man like that needs to keep moving. Keep meeting new people. I knew men like him.
Again with the salesman. Again and again and again he came to town. What business did he have here anymore? he had already swindled the various buffoons who loitered about his wares. I detested the man; worse, he disgusted me. His eyebrows were the most deleterious part of him; gargantuan and bushy, they dipped up and down and this way and that way as though an undulating furry snake sat upon his brow.
Mr. Hartley, a former insurance salesman who enjoyed the outdoors and was active with a variety of organizations, died Sunday at home of complications from two recent heart attacks, according to his son.
freep.com
cînd vor veni vremurile în care nu va mai fi nevoie de vînzători?
salesman came up to my house. i’ve opened the door and saw a man wearing brown socks. i thought to myself:
Day by day I take my chance and make my routine walk down your streets, roads and walkways. I go to your neighborhoods, your areas where you hang out with one idea inside my head. To sell, sell.
the salesman knocks and i sit petrified on my couch
i make a conscious effort to sink lower in my seat
as if he can sense me through the door
i don’t want to deal with him today.
I looked the man up and down. A suit case, a vacuum cleaner. Yeah I figured it out and decided no not this time.
When I think of salesman, I automatically picture a used car salesman. Where I come from, there is this incredibly obnoxious car salesman who puts the most annoying advertisements in history on television. He talks about the cars he has, without script, and ends every single advertisement by saying “it’s gonna be /huuuuuuuuuge./”
The salesman walked down the sidewalk, dragging his briefcase along. Eyes down. Feet dragging. He was tired. Tired of the road, tired of his wife nagging about the road, tired of his boss nagging about his numbers. Would he ever not be tired? Just for one twenty-four hour period…he would love to not be tired. How would that feel–to not feel like your life was one long dead-end road? How would it feel to have energy, to be excited about waking up in the morning? Would his heart explode? Maybe. Or..would he revel in it? Or would he ever, ever want to come back? The salesman turned the corner and never looked back.